


We Remember

by baja_king



Category: Hogan's Heroes
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 13:07:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18811513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baja_king/pseuds/baja_king
Summary: It's not easy being sergeant of the guard at Luftstalag XIII. Once again, Schultz feels tormented when his boys interfere with the morning roll call. Short story.





	We Remember

## We Remember

May 9, 1943: A series of Prisoner of War postcards

_Convention relative to the Treatment of Prisoners of War, Geneva July 27, 1929_

_Article 36: Each of the belligerents shall fix periodically the number of letters and postcards which prisoners of war of different categories shall be permitted to send per month, and shall notify that number to the other belligerent.  These letters and cards shall be sent by post by the shortest route.  They may not be delayed or withheld for disciplinary motives._

_Not later than one week after his arrival in camp, and similarly in case of sickness, each prisoner shall be enabled to send a postcard to his family informing them of his capture and the state of his health.  The said postcards shall be forwarded as quickly as possible and shall not be delayed in any manner._

_As a general rule, the correspondence of prisoners shall be written in their native language.  Belligerents may authorize correspondence in other languages._

#HH#

Entering the barracks, Schultz snapped, “Was ist los?”  Instead of scrambling out the door for morning Appell, the prisoners remained fixed at the table in the common room.  Angrily, he let loose his best Bavarian brilliance from his tongue, as his question remained unanswered.  Instead, the men ignored the sergeant of the guard while scribbling notes on paper like naughty schoolchildren.

Kinchloe finally looked up and spoke, “Schultz!  Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

As his eyes widened, Schultz shouted, “Roust!”

Hogan stood and said, “Come on, men.  I think we’re finished.  There’s only so much room on these postcards anyway.”

“Jolly jokers,” sighed Schultz as he rolled his eyes.  At least now, the prisoners vacated the barracks and took their positions in formation.  The November morning proved cold and Schultz desperately wanted a hot cup of coffee.  Then he realized Klink was already off the Kommandantur porch storming towards the men.

Klink snapped, “Colonel Hogan!  You’re all late!”

Hogan shrugged, “Sorry, Kommandant, but it couldn’t be helped.  We just found out today’s the day that the Kriegsgefangenenpost has to go out in order to arrive in May.”

Klink leaned his head to the right and scoffed, “May?  My dear Colonel Hogan, your men can always send it by airmail.”

Hogan wryly said, “Not if our fighters are downing your planes.”  The remark hit its target as Klink’s face twisted in anger.  Hogan continued, “Besides, you don’t pay us enough.  Air mail is thirty cents.”

Klink kept his poise, “I pay you and your men more than I should.”

Hogan said, “I can’t trade a slice of white bread for a postage stamp.”

“Uh huh,” said Klink.  “So you torment me today over a bunch of postcards that won’t arrive until next May.”

Hogan cried, “We want our mothers to have them in time for Mother’s Day!  It takes months to get postcards out of here, past the censor, on the train, through Switzerland or wherever the Red Cross has neutral territory, onto a boat, and finally to our moms.  Have a heart!”

Klink sighed, “Very well.  I don’t want you reciting that confounded Geneva Convention again.  Give the postcards to Sergeant Schultz”

Hogan smiled, “Thanks.  We knew that you’d understand.”

Schultz dutifully collected the Kriegsgefangenenpost.  His boys got off rather easily.  Klink dismissed the men and they returned to the barracks while Klink headed into the Kommandantur.  Schultz stood dumbfounded.  Did he count the men?  Then he made his way to the main gate.  The mail waited in a pouch for the courier who was due at any moment.  He began reading the cards.

#HH#

Dear Mom,

I both love and miss you dearly.  Usually, my luck pulls me through anything.  The way this war is going, I hope it pulls me through this insanity.  I know you’re safe and I beg of you: don’t worry about me.  My plate’s full looking after the welfare of two hundred Allied prisoners.

I know you’re scared for me.  Try to be of good cheer.  One day, this war will be over and we’ll enjoy Sunday dinners once again as a family.  Happy Mother’s Day.

Love,

Robert

#HH#

Dear Mum,

This bloody war is taking a toll on everyone.  I don’t know if overhead bombers are theirs or ours anymore.  The constant dry mouth and dread makes a person quinsy.  If anything should happen and I can’t make it home alive, I want you to know that I went without any dread of death.  I’ve always admired your pluck.

I know that I’ve caused you worry because of my mischiefs.  Now, you worry for me because I’m doing my share in a clean and just cause.  I love you, Mum.

May God bless and keep you,

Peter

#HH#

Chère mère

Pas un jour ne passe sans que je vous néglige dans mes prières. Un jour, notre chère patrie se souviendra réellement de notre plus grande devise : Liberté, Equalité, Fraternité. Ne ressens aucun fardeau ou remords que je sois absent. Réjouissez-vous du jour où nous nous reverrons.

Ton fils bien-aimé

Louis

#HH#

Ina and Kunci _(Mother and Grandmother)_

My essence suffers because I’m not there with you.  To walk in balance, I must keep my spirituality and physicality in harmony.  I ask that Wakan Tanka _(Great Spirit)_ carry my love for you out of this land of evil, across a ferocious ocean, and to your hearts.  Someday gets closer as another sun rises across the horizon.  I cherish our days of the past.  I miss you in our days of the present.  I look forward to our days together in the future.

I love you both,

Little Deer Who Runs Swift And Sure Through Forest

#HH#

Dear Mama,

I love you so much.  You were always there for me even though I tried hiding my problems.  You taught me how to be a man and make the right decisions.  I know you worry about me.  I’m asking you not to, but you’re my mother and I’m your son.  I’m not afraid of Death.  I’ll just give him a left hook and then a right cross.  We may be thousands of miles apart but I’m always with you.

Your Loving Son,

James

#HH#

Schultz sighed as he placed the Kriegsgefangenenpost into the pouch.  He heard the approaching motorcycle and ordered the gates opened.  The courier remained professional and uninterested in superfluous conversation that might detain him from his schedule.  The two men exchanged pouches.  After the courier sped away, Schultz ordered the gates closed.  He had not thought about his mother in a long time.  He had the luxury of seeing her next month at Weihnachten.  He decided he would be nice to his boys.

 


End file.
